


Twisted Perceptions

by Avaya



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Captain America - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avaya/pseuds/Avaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne is turned off by his boyfriend's mannerisms while Hal Jordan feels as if he's suffocating with Barry. Love sometimes isn't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twisted Perceptions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I confess that this is my first foray into the DC Universe. I might mess up and I would very much love for anyone to correct me if I end up making a mistake. 
> 
> This Universe is an AU: It's essentially Justice League without Jon Stewart (insert Hal Jordan so assume Justice League: War) and Captain America who joined after Justice League: Savage Time (since that's when they met him in my mind).
> 
> :)

A beautiful haze of red and orange washed over Metropolis as Bruce Wayne stared out the window, pressing his phone harder to his ear. It helped Clark's voice to come through clearer and...for him to refrain from hearing. His state of mind couldn't decipher Clark's words anyhow.

 _I love him_.                                                          

It is a phrase he had oft repeated and meant once upon a time. It wasn’t until he lied awake one night in Clark's loft staring into his boyfriend’s face that a stark realization had come over him a year into his relationship.

He isn’t  _in_ love.

Those were two different situations. He loved listening to Clark talk, his heroics, genuine enthusiasm for anything mundane and more fascinating tidbits. He did so as a friend and now as a lover.

But there were other things that he did _not_ love about Clark and his feelings over certain situations should have given away what he had been feeling for the past year.

For instance, Clark only knew about Alfred Pennyworth from Bruce. He’d never been to the manor. He’s never seen the Bat Cave. All of their holidays were spent apart as well as their birthdays. Clark hadn’t even met his children. All of their dates were in Metropolis, far from Gotham. Someone he is in love with wouldn’t be cut out from extensive and crucial parts of his life.

Even as Bruce knew that he had fallen out of love with Clark, he hadn’t had the fortitude to end their relationship. Clark was so _happy_. He thoroughly loved Bruce and told him so. It backed Bruce into a corner: he didn’t want to see those jovial eyes reveal heartache and know that _he_  is the cause. So he suffered in silence, sleeping with a man that he had no interest in unbeknownst to the other, whispering sweet nothings to him which were simply that.

Resentment soon bubbled up within him and he aimed it towards Clark. It is unfair: the man didn’t know about Bruce’s disinterest in a relationship with him, but his career is that of an analytical reporter. How is he unable to deduce that Bruce no longer wanted him on his own? Is he truly a hopeless romantic, blinded by his emotions in this situation?

It became cyclical. He would dishearten Clark for some asinine issue to sate his own unhappiness. He’d project the blame of his situation onto Clark irrationally, eventually admitting that it was _his_ decision that led to his own entrapment. Bruce would then apologize for his absurdity, they would have sex, and the process would repeat in a few days.

It took a toll on him. More often than not, he had found himself visiting his liquor cabinet, indulging more than he should. He would also ignore Clark on a whim for long periods, tersely telling him that he was busy.  His temper reared its ugly head more often and he tumbled with the idea to have a special room in Arkham Asylum set aside for him scream as if _he_ were damaged mentally beyond repair.

The rage and disgust clawed at him daily.  He didn’t think he’d be able to find an escape or an outlet to channel his frustration. Most certainly he didn’t think he’d find the spark of love that he had lost with Clark….and then it came. All it had taken was one drunken night eight months ago and it aided Bruce into constructing happiness for everyone.

This way, no one got hurt. Ignorance is bliss may be a platitude, but a situation had never more arisen to appropriately fit it.

What he is doing is wrong, he knew, but he compelled himself to continue. It would utterly destroy Clark if his boyfriend found out, but there isn’t any way for Clark to be free out of pain in this situation. And if they never leave each other—due to Clark—it is best if what is happening continued to occur. Bruce didn’t want to go back to begrudging him and making him feel sorrow, though it _is_ all of his fault. If there is meant to be any solace, Bruce felt remorse after every tryst. Yet he couldn’t deny that afterwards he felt wholly satisfied. Due to such traitorous feelings, he would gift Clark something extravagant—outdoing himself each time.

Bruce tore his eyes away from the window to look down out at his tousle-haired lover, swallowing his cock with flushed cheeks, lusty eyes, and a hand in his own pants. An edge of his lips turned up as he watched Bruce struggle to muffle a growl, the skillful tongue titillating his shaft.

His lover gave him what he wanted and needed. Clark couldn’t do that. He felt the bitterness rise within him again. He didn’t want to hide away his lover like he had been. He wanted to part ways with Clark amicably and he had thought distancing himself would give him a hint: Clark would have to initiate the break-up. But he sincerely loved Bruce, clearly willing to undergo any torture Bruce delivered. Bruce didn’t want to damage Clark so that the man would be unable to love or trust someone in such a manner in the future if he found out about his illicit lover.

He usually got what he wanted. Why did the Universe conspire against him in this instance?

“You’re still coming tonight, right? There’s so much I have to tell you.” Clark asked in that tender voice of his, ever so hopeful.

Bruce winced at what he was about to do as well as the man who loved him unwaveringly. “I’m sorry, Clark. I’m going to have to cancel.” He ensured that his tone revealed remorse as his free hand clutched his seat, though he felt anything _but_.  That engulfing feeling would come afterward.

What he said is a blatant lie. In his mind’s eye, he pictured his sensitive bespectacled lover sitting at his desk at the Daily Planet, eyes downcast as he tried to keep the stifling disappointment from rising within him. It still revealed in his voice.

“Again? This is the third time this week.” Leaning his head against the seat, he closed his eyes while stifling a gasp.

Clark Kent had every right to be distressed. In the beginning of their relationship, Bruce Wayne had been able to secure time for him. He canceled appointments and moved around meetings multiple times in a few days that he had nearly given the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Lucius Fox, an ulcer.

Now he couldn’t be bothered to make room for Clark in his schedule. It wasn’t only because he was neglecting his family business or that Gotham and the Justice League took up what little free time he had, but also because of _Clark_. He had thought he knew what he was getting into when he pursued him. He just hadn’t realized that life with him would be so monotonous after the honeymoon phase had ended. It was one of the things he _didn’t_ like about Clark.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He groaned, trying to regulate his breathing. He heard background noise on his phone that let him know that Clark was in the middle of chaos—probably a breaking story with journalists whizzing every which way past a man who merely sat and readjusted his wire frames, looking out of place and utterly put out.

Poor Clark. If he merely sharpened his hearing, zoned in on Bruce’s rapid heartbeat or his suppressed grunts, even used his penetrative vision to see _what_ was happening to him— Of course, he wouldn’t. Bruce had told him early on that he preferred if Clark _didn’t_ do that to him. He wouldn’t have been able to make love to his lover otherwise. Gentle Clark had conceded to his want for privacy. It was what had allowed him to escape notice for this long. Clark’s never-ending trust in Bruce was his most grievous error.

A heavy sigh drifted over the line. “Okay.” His lover murmured understandingly as Bruce widened his legs, piercing guilt cascading across him beginning to melt into desire. “I know you’re busy and I know I’ve been asking to see you a lot.”

Bruce pressed his lips together, refusing to answer. If he opened his mouth, he would let out a characteristic sound that Clark knew he only made for one reason. His hand glided through chestnut hair as he opened lust-filled eyes to watch the streets of Metropolis blur past. A hand tightened at his hip as he slowly thrust himself into the hot mouth, the underside of a skilled tongue coasting along his shaft. A silky moan slipped past those hungry lips as they devoured his cock.

He could tell Clark had tensed due to the hitch in his breath. “What was that?” He inquired, confusion lacing his voice. Had he heard the other man cry out his name? Did he recognize what Bruce was doing and _why_?

Bruce cast a playful glare down at the mischievous cocoa eyes twinkling at him. He licked his lips, catching a knowing glimmer within that smirk. It softened to a gentle warmth as the brunette continued to lovingly slather Bruce’s cock with his tongue, continuing to emit small groans.

“I _really_ want to see you, Clark.” He whispered huskily as he watched his consort pull away from his cock with a resounding _pop_ , giving his head a few thoughtful licks. “There’s so much I want to do to you.” A pointed gaze rested on the man below him who wickedly grinned.

His eyes traveled along the muscular torso covered in passionate bites as he smoothly floated onto the seat next to Bruce. Lying down so his legs were across him and his jeans brushed his cock with movement, he began to thumb down his boxers and jeans in a highly suggestive manner.

“ _Oh_.” He could imagine Clark’s cheeks flushing with embarrassment and affection, unable to concentrate on the blank page on his screen with the blinking cursor. He was possibly darting his eyes around looking for the nearest unlocked empty storage room—after speaking with Bruce.

Innocent Clark. He was never aggressive in the bedroom. If Bruce wanted sex, he had to initiate all of their engagements. That was appealing initially. It was something that he thought he could work around until he found a few things that made Clark and him sexually compatible. Except there was _nothing_.

Clark preferred missionary rather than attempting new positions. Blowjobs were given and received, but he disliked the taste of cum. He had no kinks for Bruce to explore and was apprehensive about his own. He flailed while blushing hotly when Bruce tried anything more than a kiss in public. Even phone sex seemed to deter him. It all became so tiring after a while.

“Rao, Bruce, I really want to see you too.”

His cock twitched as he grabbed at the hem of the man’s jeans, pulling them down as he lifted his perfect round ass, tossing them to the side.

Affectionately, he looked upon the man before him. A rosy hue tinted his skin as his copper eyes were drenched with hunger. Purposefully, he placed a leg behind the seat while placing the other dangled across his long legs. It gave him a full view of the lovely turgid cock resting on the man’s stomach, precum dripping from the slit. Bruce’s breath caught as he could see the puckered ring of muscle, clenching and relaxing, exclaiming that it felt so _empty_.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Bruce hadn’t realized that he had moved between those gorgeous legs to place a gentle licks against it.  Another sound slipped past those beautiful lips. His lover is _begging_ him to bury himself inside, fingers gliding through his dark locks, gentle pressure applied to keep him in place.

It is unnecessary. He made that apparent by removing the hand, but keeping hold of it. He was captivated by the taste of his lover’s ass, his cock aching for that wonderfully warm and tight hole. His cum and flavored lube rushed to greet him. Running his tongue along the rim before allowing his tongue to penetrate the entrance, he shivered while he felt the muscle close around his tongue greedily. He then began the brutal assault against his lover’s quivering flesh, unable to restrain a growl eagerly consumed him.

“Oh Bruce. You shouldn’t…you’re making me….” Gentle gasps that Bruce didn’t hear even though the phone is latched to his ear.

His lids are shuttered close as he focused on nothing besides the flavor of the ass he is eating. The increasing curses from the man writhing beneath him and his hips pushing against him were all that he could pay attention to.

“Just like that, baby.” His wanton cries spurred Bruce on. “So fucking good. Don’t stop. Come on.”

 _This_ delectable creature wanted to be fucked every which way. Anything that Bruce wanted to do, he was eager. He spoke dirty, moaned unashamedly, and loved it anywhere they might get caught. Bruce thoroughly enjoyed watching him open his mouth to Bruce full of _his_ cum and swallow it, running his tongue across his lips for any stray droplets. He loved watching that purely content face as his lover looked back at him, legs spread wide so Bruce could watch that alluring pink crevice eject his cum, creeping along his perineum.

He was brash, hot-headed, sarcastic—so vibrant and full of life, so very different from Clark.

“I wish we could meet.” Clark whispered, his tone much more suggestive.

“I know.” Instant regret filled him as he removed himself from that wonderful piece of flesh, lifting himself enough to watch as his companion brought his hand to his cock. His gaze trained on Bruce, obscured by passion.  Grazing his teeth along his beau’s inner thigh, Bruce took hold of the hot swollen cock. A couple of jerks had his lover gasping his name, eyes rolled back in bliss.

He made his voice go lower as he leaned over to run his tongue across the head, making the man tremble and softly whimper. “But I’m busy. I promise that I’ll see you within the next few days.” The saltiness he’d yearned for daily was a soothing balm to his worries and he let out a possessive growl.

“ _Bruce_.” The whining moan is almost a pant. He didn’t know if it came from the phone or the man below him.

Again he said nothing, leaning to down to lick the length of the quivering flesh that looked painfully swelled. It pushed against his lips as the man below him slid his body along the seat slowly, biting his lower lip to keep from crying out. Bruce patiently jutted his tongue out to caress it.

“I need more, baby.” The man lifted his head to watch Bruce, fingertips grazing along his face. His cock is now leaking onto his chin. Bruce languidly licked at it.

“What you do to me…” He heard Clark’s adoring exhale. “Alright, Bruce. Call me when you’re not busy and I expect you to make it up to me.”

He smiled as he began to suckle one of the man’s balls while palming his cock. _That_  is another issue with their relationship. Clark Kent is accepting of any last minute changes that Bruce made, sulked in blame when Bruce and he found themselves in an argument where his diplomacy failed—even if Bruce is at fault— and acquiesced to whatever Bruce wanted. There were times when that type of behavior was welcomed—when Bruce had had a particularly grueling day and simply needed someone to be comforting, telling him that he is right and listening to him. But mostly, such behavior made Bruce want to play Russian Roulette.

For being the Man of Steel, he certainly is _not_ a challenge. He had thought that perhaps Clark Kent would bring the same vigor his alter-ego brought when facing enemies. Instead, he is dating someone who he could easily tread over whenever he wanted—an individual who allowed himself to be trampled upon instead of fighting back. He did that regularly with street toughs as the Dark Knight. For this to happen with Superman is surprisingly unattractive and killed his libido.

For _Clark_.

“ _Oh fuck yes._ ” The man gasped as Bruce swathed his tongue along the sweaty blue-veined cock before swallowing the head into his mouth. He brought his hand along his shaft as he did so. Closing his eyes, he listened to him beneath him groan louder, reveling in the taste of precum that was seeping into his mouth.

The man on the other line was nearly forgotten.

“Bruce?”

He hadn’t realized that he’d been quiet for awhile as he engulfed the whole length, his head rising and falling leisurely.

His darling Clark, so patient. So willing to please him and would hold on the line for an undetermined length of time. So easy for Bruce to manipulate…which made their whole affair tedious and his love for him dwindle. Though Bruce needed to be in control of every aspect of his life—stemming from the tragic episode of his parent’s demise—he preferred initial or continuing resistance so that when he conquered his goal, the flavor is all the more sweet. Defiance in the sexual department was all Clark had brought and it was _not_ what Bruce had in mind or wanted.

“Bruce?” The tone is more insistent.

The gorgeous brunette thrust into his mouth at the easy pace Bruce had set, fingers grasping his black hair as he tried to stifle his raspy breaths. “ _Fuck yes. Faster, come on. Bruce.”_ He wanted to growl into the phone with his mouth full of cock so that Clark would know what he is doing, but he had enough composure to understand the devastating ramifications. He settled for enjoying the slurping sounds he made and his escort shoving himself deep into him a bit erratically, chasing his coming orgasm. Bruce hummed which caused a noisy cry to burst from his companion. He could tell he was nearly there…

 _Not yet_.

The cock fell from his mouth as he straightened up, earning a fierce scowl from dark eyes. “You fucking get back to sucking me _right now_ you fucking tease or I will _scream_.”

No nonsense. Passionate. Confrontational. Ambitious during sex. _This_ was what he wanted—what he needed. An undisciplined lover that was horrendously difficult, who wouldn’t break no matter how many boundaries Bruce tore across but who would relinquish his body when Bruce subdued him. A defiant paramour.

“Bruce?” The voice no longer held any affection. It was serious.

He shimmied out of his Dolce suit jacket all the while staring down icily at Harold Jordan, an eyebrow raised.  In spite for Hal’s grossly difficult tone—which he enjoyed—he sat up and ignored Hal altogether—knowing it would get to the man—bracing his arm across the length of the seat.

“Expect a call in a few days, Clark.” Bruce reverted back to his clipped tone. His peripherals caught Hal’s fingers drifting to his cock and gently pulling.  “I’ll be tied up until then.”

“Tied in _me_.” Hal smirked as Bruce ended the call, swatting his hand away from his cock while perusing his messages. Bruce gave no further acknowledgment to Hal as the limousine sped towards Gotham, the sky darkening as they neared the city of perpetual rainfalls. It served as an impenetrable cloak to Bruce. Gotham was breached by nothing outside unless if he wished it, as if it shielded his unscrupulous activities and no one could infiltrate it unless he permitted it.

“Hey. Man with severe weeping dick that’s your fault, right here.” Hal sat up, waving his hand in front of Bruce’s face. He then stared incredulously at the man who looked so poised in his gray dress shirt, even though his spit-slathered cock protruded out of his dress pants. Hal could feel his body heating up with renewed desire.

At Bruce’s continued lack of attention, he huffed. “I don’t think so.” Grabbing the phone, he tossed it behind him before straddling Bruce’s lap.

“You’re going to buy me a new phone if that breaks.” His tone is serious and his expression teetered on uninterested. His eyes though were playful.

Rubbing his ass against his hard length, he grabbed the seat on either side of Bruce’s head.  “Sure. I’ll pay you three cents a day like those late night infomercials. Or with my body which, I can tell, you _really_ prefer.”

“I’ll take the money.”

“And I’ll take a bigger dick.”

The barest hint of a smirk met him. Hands coasted along Hal’s thighs to rest on his ass. “You seem upset. What’s wrong?”

“You’re _everything_ that’s wrong with me.” Hal gasped out, pressing his lips against Bruce hard. Lips parted and the battle began as they both tried to swallow each other’s tongues.  He ground his hips more forcibly against Bruce, feeling the nigh-insatiable itch that ached for Bruce’s cock to fill him. “You’re also wearing too many clothes.” He added, fingers finding the spaces between buttons and ripping the shirt open.

Both eyebrows raised now. “You’re definitely buying me a new shirt.”

“Consider that punishment.” Hal ran his hands along the sculpted chest decorated with scars, savoring the feel of the chest hair and happy trail under his fingertips. He then clutched his face, taking his mouth again as Bruce chuckled. “You’re not going to fucking call me, _use_ me while you’re playing on the phone with your boyfriend, and _not_ get me off. Huh-uh. Not going to happen.”

Bruce turned his head to end the kiss, causing Hal to emit a frustrated growl. “It just did.” Bruce enunciated, a small turn of his lips barely evident. It hinted at Hal’s entrance to the danger zone. Anything that Bruce did past this point, Hal was responsible.

“You think? Because I think you’re about to get me off.” His sneer was lecherous.

“Made you hard, did it?” Bruce’s hands rubbed along Hal’s thighs, Hal pushing against him so that Bruce could mark the nape of his neck.

“Made me almost fucking cum.” He sighed, throwing his head back to give Bruce easier access while reaching under him to grab that unbelievable cock.

Nothing more was said as Hal lowered himself onto Bruce, still wet and loose with their last fucking thirty minutes ago. Bruce bit down harder on his neck and dug his nails into his ass, trying to stifle a groan and trembling with anticipation. The familiar tightness engulfed his cock, squeezing him as it begged for him to coat every inch of him with his cum.

Hal clenched the seat tighter, languishing the girth seated deep inside of him. It was a bit big for him to take which was why sex with Bruce was always exceptional. When they got started, it would be the perfect amount of pleasure and pain. And it was about time that they did.

He bent his head release a sultry moan near Bruce’s ear. The effect was immediate as Bruce snapped his hips into him.

 _I’m sorry, Clark._  

Bruce relaxed back against the seat, adoringly watching Hal drive his hips down on him as he pushed into him.  He couldn’t get enough of the parted soft lips that embraced his cock with severe want, pleasuring him immensely. Those captivating hazel eyes demanded for him set a brutal and fast pace, nearly worshiping him as he obliged.  The delicious pants that escaped him revealing Hal’s own burning wants.

_But I need this._

Their hands continued caressing their bodies as they continued to make love, not hearing Bruce’s vibrating phone.

* * *

“Okay. Love y—”

The call cut off before he finished. Clark frowned at the phone, feeling frustrated and forced back tears that threatened to fall. His arousal had died near the end of it. He felt his chest tighten as he tried to decipher the strange noises he heard. He thought Bruce had been pleasuring himself. But there were other sounds that he couldn’t quite place. They were familiar yet troubling.

Disquieted by what had just occurred, Clark reviewed their relationship. The past few months had been like this, but it seemed to be steadily getting worse. The Bruce he had just talked was the one that ravished him in the beginning, but he had devolved into the careless boyfriend towards the end. A jolt of anger ensnared him as a thought crossed his mind. Did Bruce just contact him to only get himself off? _That_ was the reason why he didn’t prefer to do it. It seemed that Bruce was simply interested in his personal gratification.

He cast a sorrowful look at the desk across from him, wishing that Lois Lane wasn’t out on a story so he could reveal his troubles to her.

Bruce is an occupied mogul, he knew, but his demeanor is a complete one-eighty from what he had been when they had started courting. Before, he would readily make time for Clark whenever he wanted to see him. Now, he would make plans and then cancel them at a moment’s notice, leaving Clark to feel apprehensive whenever Bruce _did_ make plans.

In the beginning, he would spend whole nights making love to him. Currently, when he did make it to a scheduled event, he couldn’t stay the night.

Previously, he would repeat Clark’s declarations of love. Presently, he seemed to pretend as if he didn’t hear. It caused him to be embarrassed and pained. He didn’t want to be pushy. He had finally gotten the man that he wanted most and would do anything to ensure that they remained together. But he couldn’t imagine what he was doing wrong.

Being an investigative journalist, it didn’t take very many leaps of thought to come up with the most likely solution of Bruce’s behavior: his boyfriend was having an affair or loved someone else. But he didn’t have proof of that and he felt he was becoming susceptible to his emotions. It tended to cloud his judgment. It also made a cold sensation flood through him.

His heart rate still spiked at the thought of Bruce satisfying himself with another. A sickening feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he grit his teeth together, trying to collect himself. He tried not to shudder as his mind conjured images of all the different women and men he’d seen Bruce saunter with in front of the cameras. He knew that the faux persona had slept with most of them. But he wouldn't commit such an act  _while_ with someone. That isn't in his nature: he was brutally honest and would have simply told Clark that their relationship wasn't going to work out.

He wished for the umpteenth time that Bruce hadn’t asked him to refrain from listening to his heartbeat or finding out where in the world he happened to be by using his transparent vision. He trusted him to do so and Bruce’s hard-earned trust was not something to easily throw away.

Clark mulled over another possible reason why Bruce would act this way: distraction. All of the nights that he had spent with Clark kept him away from Gotham. If he was honest with himself, he had sought Bruce whenever he had time on hand and he never thought of what an imposition it could have been on Bruce’s own personal dealings.

Drumming his fingers onto his desk, stared at his half-finished report as if it would solve his current dilemma. Why didn’t he see this earlier? With Bruce’s time having been utterly consumed by him, he would have been unable to adequately perform his duties. All he needed was a little time off.

Relieved in figuring out a possible issue, though the discomfort dwelling within him never left, he quickly texted him the message.

_Hey. Don’t worry about it. We can catch up next week sometime._

His eyes flitted over to the chiming elevators, doors separating to reveal an appealing blond haired man with sparkling blue eyes. A grin bloomed on his face of its own accord and washed away the troubling feelings he had for Bruce. It was unlike Clark not to examine closely why Steve Rogers made him feel like everything was _right_ lately, but he was grateful for the reprieve of the torturous torment. After feeling neglected by Bruce, he chalked it up to needing a great friend to lift his spirits.

A gentle smile spread across Steve’s face as he surveyed the room, caught sight of Clark, and headed over to him. “Hey Clark. If anyone asks, I gave you an exposé on Captain America.”

Clark rolled his eyes while shutting off his computer, grabbing his keys, phone, and briefcase. “Hey Steve.”

Steve leaned against his desk as he watched Clark organize and clear off his desk for the workday, crossing his arms. “I’m sorry.” He stated unapologetically. “I wouldn’t have lied if I knew that security guards would try and detain me for trying to speak to you.”

“So it was a lie then?” He quirked an eyebrow in amusement as they both headed to the elevator. “Anyway, we don’t make it a habit to allow anyone to come in. I’ll put your name on the list.”

His eyes widened. “You have a _list_ of people who are allowed to speak to you?”

“No.” Clark genuinely laughed. Rao, he didn’t even remember when he had last done so. “The list of people that the guards check to so that random people like Steve Rogers don’t show up.”

Steve purposefully knocked his shoulder against his friend. “You’re not going to let me live it down, are you?” At Clark’s teasing gaze, he sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll make it up to you.”

“A report from Captain America would be nice.”

“I’d gladly give you one over dinner.”

Clark’s heart skipped a beat as he eyed his friend. Did he just ask him out to..? Licking his lips as he brandished his head, he started, “Steve—?”

“Just dinner, Clark. As friends.” Steve tossed a sparkling grin at him as they entered and rode down to the garage. “I know you’re seeing someone and I wouldn’t impose. But you look like you need it. Unless if you’re busy.”

“I do need it.” His thoughts flitted back to Bruce and the possibility of them not meeting up for a while. He couldn’t touch on what prompted him to continue as they reached the garage. “And I’m free for the next few days. Perry’s forcing me to take time off and Bruce is...busy. Mine or yours?”

Steve frowned. “Yours. Mine is parked at a hotel. And he’s been busy an awful lot.”

“He funds numerous projects simultaneously, attends and holds charity functions, helps out with the League and then looks out for Gotham. He’s going to be busy.” Clark muttered a bit defensively, heading to his car. Realizing he was not being followed, he turned to see Steve standing still and staring after him.  Quickly looking away, he added softly. “Sorry. It’s just…been tough.”

Steve nodded following after him. “I understand. It’s just that it’s your anniversary so I would have expected him to spend time with you.”

Clark halted mid-step and turned back to view his friend confused. “How did you know it was our anniversary?”

A somber look passed through Steve’s eyes. “You talked about it once more than a few months ago. After you told me that Bruce hasn’t been around to see you as often, I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone on your special day.”

He turned away from Steve then, a sharp pain erupting in his chest. “Right.” He responded, voice tight as he resumed walking.

They were silent until they reached Clark’s white Maserati Quattroporte. Steve whistled making Clark chuckle. “I am so glad we’re taking your car.”

Sliding into the rich red leather passenger seat, Steve noticed that Clark wore a tight-lipped expression. “To be honest, I’d be happy taking your Ford. This—” He gestured a hand in the air about the car. “isn’t me. I almost feel like he’s trying to buy me off or make me into something I’m not. Where to?”

“Whatever you love. It’s your city. And let’s think happy thoughts, okay? Like food that you like to eat—which I’m sure that I could safely say any. Don’t stress over something that you can’t control.” It was unfortunate that it had to be conveyed especially since anniversaries were usually celebratory occasions.

As Clark smoothly maneuvered the car onto the road, he agreed with a false smile. His whole life was about control, whether it be his abilities to not overtake, excel, or kill humans or his League Members, his emotions, or his disposition. He had always wanted to unwind and not have to worry about reining himself. Bruce was his outlet for that. Or he had _thought_ so before his boyfriend's abrupt change. He briefly wondered if Bruce would still be willing to aide him before his eyes unwittingly slid over to the man sitting beside him.

He found gorgeous blue eyes were on him as well causing him to blush and avert his eyes. It lessened as a look of remembrance cascaded across his face. “Wait. Steve, you got a cab? I wasn’t doing much in the office. You could have called and I would have come to get you.”

“I did call.” He chuckled and placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder before he could wallow in self-depreciation while sputtering _I’m sorry_ s. “But not about that. I had planned to surprise you just in case if Bruce had to work. I also didn’t call a cab.” He shrugged at Clark’s slackened mouth. “I wanted to see Metropolis so I toured for a bit. I need to know what there was to do just in case if I need to entertain you for a few days.”

His brow furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

Steve sighed. “I needed a vacation after my last case. I got restless after a couple of hours and just wanted to see how you were doing.”

This time, the smile on Clark’s face was genuine.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've decided what I want to do and I would like to forewarn that there will be a lot of emotional turmoil and cheating involved. I abhor cheating, but it is very interesting to me the reasons why people decide to do so. None of them are sufficient or valid imo, but I understand them all the same.


End file.
